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Jack woke to the sound of knocking. Five solid thunk thunks on his bedroom door while he groaned against his mattress, tugging a pillow over his head.

"Jack, you need to leave for school soon."

He groaned again, peeking at the clock on his bedside table. Half an hour before the alarm was supposed to go off; thirty extra minutes he could be sleeping. "Why? Why? Why?" he muttered.

"It's snowing and the weather's only going to get worse." His aunt spoke through the door, sounding apologetic. "I started breakfast. There's bacon and eggs already on the table. Do hurry up."

Jack sighed as her footsteps traipsed away. He sat up in bed to squint out the window, and immediately thought, *Fuck winter.*

She was right. It was snowing, and heavily. Jack shut his bleary eyes with another sigh. He was not looking forward to trudging through that crap.

Resigning himself to a bitterly cold morning, the boy rolled out of bed and searched for a pair of wool socks. He finger combed his hair, made a bathroom trip to brush his teeth and splash water on his face. It was too frigid for a shower. He'd take one when he got home.

Jack got dressed begrudgingly and grabbed his backpack from the closet, rubbing his eyes, fighting a yawn. He hoped his aunt had made coffee. He could steal a cup; and if she argued, he'd simply point out the window.

As he lumbered downstairs, Jack blinked at the harsh white sun beaming through the skylight. It was dim again when he made it to the first floor. Blessedly dark almost, because his aunt had chosen not to open the curtains yet.

He dropped his bag near the front door before heading into the kitchen. Scents of fresh cooked bacon and cheesy eggs wafted around his head like stars, leading him straight to an awaiting table and chair.

His aunt had already finished eating, and now poured herself a cup of coffee as he lifted his fork. "Can I get some of that?"

Sighing, she served him a reproachful look. "You know I don't want you getting addicted to this stuff."

"It's terrible out and I'm sitting here thirty minutes sooner than I'd like." Jack neglected to mention he was already a big fan of caffeine. He was completely unashamed of his Dunkin' Donuts fixation, though he kept quiet about it. "Please?"

The lady sighed mercifully, setting her mug down in front of him. "How do you want it?"

"Just cream-"

Another unapologetic round of insistent knocking cut Jack off. His aunt held up a finger to wait before leaving to answer the front door. Once the room was clear, Jack snuck to the fridge in search of milk.

He had just finished filling an empty mug with cream, reaching gleefully for the coffeepot, when she called him.

"Jack! You have a visitor!"

Frowning, he dropped the caffeine regretfully and followed his aunt's voice. He traveled to the living room, blinking rapidly when he found it filled with morning sun. On the couch sat a man Jack knew by nature was no early bird, blinding window glass creating a halo behind him. "Spike?"

"'Lo, mate." Spike rose quickly and forced a gracious smile for the lady between them. A shadow surrounded him when he stepped away from the couch. "Thank you again for lettin' me in. I know it's early."

It was early. A fact silently reaffirmed by the dark circles beneath Spike's eyes, not to mention his rumpled clothes. The man looked to be running on empty.

The woman in the room sensed it. She stared curiously, but sympathetic, clearly liberal by nature. Famous for keeping herself out of people's business, she only said, "As long as Jack isn't late for school, I can't complain."

"He won't be. I'll drive him myself."

Jack frowned. "You will?"

Spike threw him a look.

"All right, you will." He glanced at his aunt again, her eyes staying watchful yet unassuming. Their guest was displaying some antsy foot action, and Jack knew nothing would be explained until the lady made her exit. "Uh... I think I left the milk sitting out on the counter."

She sighed predictably. "Really, Jack, you've got to quit doing that."

"Sorry."

His aunt shook her head and strolled away.

He was on Spike in a flash. "What's up? You look terrible."

"I need to talk to you." He refused to sit again, voice dropping to an anxious murmur. "You need to do me a favor."

"What sort of favor?"

"Don't look at me like that. S'nothin' bad, but I need you to talk to Buffy."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just talk to her?" Not including his own concerns regarding time spent with the guidance counselor, Jack didn't like being caught in the middle. Unless talking to Buffy for Spike would help get the two of them back together, he wasn't doing the man this favor.

"I can't talk to her."

"You have a working voice box, don't you?"

Spike's jaw clenched visibly. "You know I can't, and I won't. She might not listen to me anyway, and this is important."

"Enough that you needed to interrupt my breakfast?"

"Yes, it bloody well is." Spike saw the boy grow sober. "You're a bloke who's spent some quality time with Joe Gregory."

"Too much of it."

"Right. Well, you're not the only one he likes to pick on." Spike retold his story, a brief synopsis of how he found Buffy that day in her antique shop so long ago. Following closely came an illustration on Joe's hateful opinions regarding the opposite sex, their fight hours prior, and the words that may have put Buffy in danger. All of it was taken in as quickly as Spike told it, tension rising in Jack's body with each word.

"You need me to tell her this?"

"Just 'bout the fight. Explain what I did, that he might want to seek her out. If the bastard tries anything, I'll..." Spike stopped himself, sucking in a hasty breath, letting it drag through his lungs. Eventually, he came back with, "She needs to be aware."

Jack crossed his arms and looked down. He avoided Spike's guilt ridden expression with determination, the need to hide his own too prominent. If Joe was as much a bigot as Spike said, and Jack knew firsthand how cruel the guy could be, then yes, Buffy's safety might be on the line.

However, Jack knew something else, too. Shaun and Michael had already threatened Buffy, if indirectly, in order to scare him. Jack didn't think they would cause her true harm, but also realized Michael could come up with anything. Now, taking into account Spike's story it seemed Shaun had his own, personal reasons to hassle her, whether Jack was involved or not.

It might be enough to push them over the edge, from words to actions. Jack remembered what had happened only last week, when he was summoned to her office over the loudspeaker. Last class of the day, and the second one he shared with Michael O'Henry. The guy wasn't stupid; he stared evenly from the instant the announcement was made until Jack left the classroom.

Buffy had no idea of the danger she could be in. Jack hadn't either; not fully, until now.

He looked up at Spike, the distraught image of a man worried desperately over someone he couldn't protect. Jack didn't want to frighten him any more than he already was. Spike could hardly stand still right now. It was time to talk to Buffy on both of their behalf.

"What is it?"

Jack quickly wiped all expression from his face. "What?"

"Something buggin' you?"

"No. I just want to get to school... so I can talk to Buffy about everything," he sighed. Spike's tired eyes filled with relief. "I'll go inhale my breakfast. Give me five minutes."

Spike looked for a second like he might say something else, then merely nodded and sat on the couch. His knee soon started to bob.

Jack practically ran for the kitchen, and much to his aunt's disapproval, did just as he said he would. Making quick work of the bacon, he took three bites of eggs and downed half a cup of coffee all under five minutes.

The duo drove off in apprehensive silence, straining windshield wipers the only recognizable sound in the car as they headed towards school.

***

Buffy's head popped up at the sound of the bell. It was the first one of the day. She had just recently let Penny go after discussing the successes of their note hunt. Evidently, Cressida Pincher never had a chance to laugh at the other girl's expense; as a matter of fact, she'd received a bit of karma for her mean-spiritedness.

Cressida made the mistake of telling Nick that Penny had a crush on him, in an effort to salvage her note's unkind intentions following its mysterious disappearance. Why the girl hadn't simply done this to begin with, Buffy could only figure, was due to a lack of common sense.

The resulting situation proved to be fortuitous. Just not for Cressida. Nick approached Penny himself, asking if the gossip was true. She had never been very good at lying, and so confessed her feelings then and there.

The young couple now had a date set for Saturday. A pizza dinner followed by a horror flick. Penny was predictably over the moon, and felt the need to show Buffy the depth of her gratitude.

The teenager bought her flowers. A big, bright red bouquet of lilies, baby's breath, roses and greens. It was a flamboyant arrangement contained in a vase that fit perfectly on the corner of her desk. She couldn't bring it home, as lilies were poisonous to cats, and she'd be hard pressed to stop Tabitha from eating any sort of foliage.

It livened up the office anyway. Buffy thanked Penny warmly before the girl went on her way. It had only been ten minutes since she'd left, but the school was now filled with its casual mob of teenagers, ready and only somewhat willing to learn. Buffy dozed off to the sound of echoing voices, laughter, and squishy footsteps almost immediately after Penny had closed the door.

Awake once again, though yawning in protest, Buffy checked the time.

She should call Anya. Another check in. Reaching for the phone on her desk, Buffy dialed the store's number. It rang and rang until eventually going to voicemail. She frowned, hung up, then tried again. The same thing happened.

Buffy rifled in her purse for her cell phone, only to discover it had run dead. She'd spent all last night playing tedious games on it trying to distract her mind, then talking on it this morning. Charging the rundown battery was just too easily overlooked.

Buffy stared in exasperation at her office phone. She didn't know Anya's cell by heart, and her charger was in the car.

Sighing, she stood up and donned her heavy winter coat. Buffy left the office door wide open before she trudged through quiet, empty halls, bracing herself for the cold.

***

Jack sped past the bathroom he had claimed as an excuse to leave class, and straight for Buffy's office. He didn't get a chance to talk to her before the bell rang, and decided doing so while everybody else was busy, teachers included, would probably benefit. A guarantee for no interruptions, and still early enough that other students wouldn't even know.

When he got to her office the door was open. He knocked quickly on the wood frame and paused when he saw her desk empty. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that, except for the fact her purse was sitting out. Open, lying beside a huge vase filled with flowers.

Jack frowned at those, then realized her coat was gone. But if her purse was still here, she couldn't have left.

Jack looked in the direction of his class. He should probably be heading back since she wasn't here, but... maybe she ran out to the car for something. That was always possible. He could come back and talk to her on his free period, but that wouldn't be for a while, and he hadn't seen Shaun or Michael yet. Jack didn't want them knowing about this meeting, if he could help it.

Shaking his head and anticipating an angry reprimand from his teacher when he returned, Jack ran down the hall towards the parking lot exit. If he could just talk to Buffy for a few minutes, put her on guard and then plan for a longer explanation later today, he could ease the tension in his throat.

***

"Work faster!"

"I'm trying!" Michael groused. He pushed the ice pick into the third tire, letting out a satisfied laugh when it flattened with a whoosh.

"Was that it?"

"Yes! Now hurry up with that one." Michael handed the ice pick to Shaun and stood straight, looking at his hooded reflection in the Jeep's rearview. "You sure you don't want to break her windows, too?"

"No, this is enough," Shaun grunted, shouting in triumph when the last tire fell deceased under pressure.

"Didn't Joe say she was selling your mom's stuff again?"

"'Cause of our dad, yeah, even though Joe doesn't get that..." Shaun grumbled. "Still, we don't have time to break the windows. First period is ending soon and you got to get to Bio before anyone notices you're later than usual."

"Whatever. She deserves this. Did I tell you about the time she yelled at me in front of her store? Scared off this girl I was seeing? Total bitch..." Michael sneered and kicked one of the ruined tires. "Can't wait 'til Winton finds out. He'll know who did it but he won't be able to prove a thing."

"He'll try," Shaun muttered, tucking the ice pick back inside his book bag. "C'mon, let's get out of here before someone else finds us."

Michael smiled. "I think Joe will be happy when we tell him-"

The smile evaporated when Shaun was suddenly yanked around the hood of the car. Buffy Summers stood there, holding the boy by his arm. She remained as stock-still as a soldier, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the cold.

"Open your backpack," she ordered. Wide, once friendly eyes had become frigid. The two vandals lost the common ability to speak.

"Now!"

Shaun blinked between his bag and her implacable grip. Buffy Summers was a small woman, but strong when necessary, it seemed.

He wasn't quick enough. The guidance counselor grabbed his book bag with her free hand and unzipped it in a flash. Buffy retrieved the ice pick as angry disbelief consumed her. She had watched him hide it, seen the last tire pop, but a part of her, the mushy part so damnably sensitive to teenagers, hadn't truly believed.

The proof, however, was right in her hand.

"We're going to Principal Wood's office."

Those words snapped the boy out of it. Shaun yanked himself free; she grabbed for his coat sleeve. "Let go of me!"

Buffy dropped the ice pick when he shoved her away. Shaun took off. In her fury she started to run after him; sense returned the very next instant. Awareness thawed out. Buffy groaned and started storming towards the school. Robin would take her at her word, and the boys would face consequences. She didn't need to bring either of them in by the ear.

In the heat of commotion, she had forgotten almost completely about Michael. Until the boy grabbed her from behind and hauled her against him.

"Keep running, Shaun!" he screamed near her ear. His friend stopped dead and turned back, apparently surprised to discover Michael wasn't running beside him.

It was an equal shock, to both Shaun and Buffy, when the other boy pushed the forgotten ice pick against her neck.

Buffy's eyes widened in terror, numb fingers digging into the tense forearm banding her chest. She took hyper, shallow breaths. A millennium seemed to pass before she heard him speak, responding to panicked shouts coming from the other side of the parking lot.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Getting some insurance," Michael called back. "Ms. Bitchy Summers, you aren't going to tattle on us, are you?"

She felt sick. The patronizing voice made her want to smack him; the ice pick digging into her neck just provided further incentive.

It dug in a little harder when she refused to answer. "Ms. Summers... you have to promise. You don't open your big mouth and tell anyone about what we did, and I won't make your life very, very painful..."

"Michael!" Shaun screamed. His voice was shrill, and coming closer. "You're going to hurt her! Knock it off!"

"That's the idea!" Michael seethed. "If I don't get a convincing promise, then I'll..." the words fell to a murmur, "hurt her.

Buffy pulled away from the unsettling whispers, prepared to swallow her pride if she had to, but taking just a moment to think. If she could only kick him, between the legs, but she was being held at a bad angle. Her keys were in her back pocket, and would probably be of little use even if she could reach-

A sudden, unrestrained cry echoed somewhere to her left. The hold around her disappeared, and Buffy fell with the same impact that had knocked her free.

She rolled across the salty pavement. Ferocious noises ascended behind her, and when Buffy finally regained her feet, she saw Jack on top of Michael's sprawled body.

He had knocked the other boy's skull against the ground by tackling him. Michael was barely responding to the ensuing attack. "Jack!" Buffy tried to steady her breathing as she rushed forward. His fists were already covered in blood.

"Jack!" she repeated. He flinched when she grabbed his raised arm. "Stop! Stop it!" She met his wild gray eyes, the same color as the sky but darker than mother nature could prove herself this day. "Come on, get up."

It took him a few seconds to respond. Just shallow, hectic inhales for several moments. Coaxing him away from the other boy, she saw the ice pick lying some twenty paces away. She glanced briefly at Michael. He was breathing, ragged and slow, but breathing.

Buffy sighed anxiously. She examined Jack's bruising hand. It was covered in red, a mixture of his and O'Henry's blood. "Are you all right?"

"Am I-?!" He shook his head. Still gasping, chest working like an accordion, Jack stared at Buffy in disbelief. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine," she said, and that was when Jack pulled his hand back. "Wait-"

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her, much like a parent, so he could peek at her neck. There was a very tiny well of blood where the ice pick had touched. "You're bleeding."

Buffy rose her hand and tentatively stroked the area he pointed to. Jack let go as she pulled her fingers away and studied them. "It's barely anything, don't worry about it." She looked him in the eye again. "Now, we need to call the sheriff and get Principal Wood out here. Can you do that?"

Jack shook his head, and Buffy reached up in order to attempt taming his messy black hair. "I'm not going to leave you alone with him," he grit, waving at O'Henry's prone body.

She was about to protest, when- "I'll go."

They both turned to search for the source of that offer. Shaun had come closer at some point. Looking beleaguered and lost, he dropped his open backpack on the pavement. The boy appeared very cold.

Jack's jaw tightened, a small muscle jumping behind the skin. Buffy nearly shook her head in wonder at the similarities he shared...

"Sorry if we don't trust you," Jack spat.

"I- I never knew he'd... That Michael would try-"

"You didn't do anything to stop him either!"

"Let him go," Buffy interrupted. She patted Jack's shoulder briefly then rubbed her own arms. The wind was picking up and her body's adrenaline was fading, her temperature falling. "Go get Principal Wood right now and tell him he needs to call the police. Ask him to ask for the sheriff, if he's available, then bring him out here."

Shaun nodded numbly. He threw a fearful glance at Michael before sprinting towards the school.

"How do you know he'll even-"

"He'll go," she interrupted, certainty in her voice. "He had no idea what Michael would do. Shaun was scared just now. He's a punk, but he isn't like him. What he saw shook him up."

"It shook me up, too!" Jack shouted. She looked at him with a frown. "But I did something about it! I was just on my way to warn you, and then this..."

"Warn me? What do you mean?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I can't... I can't really put the words together right now. Can I tell you after the cops get here?"

He sounded like a young boy again, not the growing man she'd seen just days before in the gym. Not the angry hero who rushed to her aid in a frozen parking lot. He just looked like Jack, a teenager with too much weight on his shoulders.

"Tell me later," Buffy agreed. The reassurance went far enough that he offered a timid smile of thanks. "I think I need some time to regroup, too."

Looking at her Jeep's ruined tires, and the kid lying in front of them, Buffy hugged herself tighter. She might ask Robin for some time off after the hours ahead had passed. She was anticipating the dwindling of those like the myriad of repetitive questions bound to make her head throb.

A moment later, and Shaun returned with Robin Wood in tow. The principal appeared horrified, worried, and ready for a battle all at once. Buffy wrapped one arm around Jack's shoulders and looked up at the sky in silence; together, they awaited the storm.

***

Spike sat in the shadows, running the heat on full blast and keeping the radio low while he chain smoked. One cigarette after the other, butts gathered in a dirty ashtray.

Joe hadn't left the garage all day. Spike had been waiting outside ever since leaving the school, allowing snow to pile around his car. He'd had to move a few times just to avoid getting trapped in a pit, but overall he remained still, and unseen.

Joe went to work with his father around nine o'clock. The bloke was sporting a nasty looking bruise, about which he was sure Larry Gregory asked no questions. The man didn't like to get his hands dirty unless he was working on a car, even where his son was concerned.

Spike figured the recent antagonism he'd guessed lie between Larry and Joe proved a rational assumption after all. They didn't look too keen on each other when they walked from home to work, and neither man said much.

It had been about four hours now. The clouds did not waver. The snowfall had grown steady. Spike dozed off at one point. Running on no sleep could make you do that, pass out in a wink, quickly turning one into forty. When he woke, it was in a panic. Half an hour had passed.

Thankfully, Joe's car was still parked, blanketed by snow. Tire tracks nonexistent. It had not been moved. The longer Spike watched, the more he believed Buffy was safe, at least for tonight. The weather was too bad to lure most people out into the cold, even Joe Gregory.

Spike checked the time. Jack would have spoken to her by now. She should be on guard already. The girl was smart, and Joe wasn't someone she smiled at when they passed on the street; she would consider an appearance made by him unwelcome indeed.

With Jack watching, Spike tracking Joe like a hawk, and Buffy fully aware of the possible threat, it was unlikely anything would happen. If need be, Spike would still talk to Buffy himself. He didn't think it would be necessary, but he couldn't watch Joe forever.

The notion of speaking to her was supported by equal amounts anxiety and anticipation. He missed talking to her, even arguing with her. He just missed her. That smile, those eyes, her laughter, her witty rejoinders. Christ, you'd think it would get easier, wouldn't you?

Not yet. Spike was still head over heels, painfully, unequivocally lost.

It was why he sat here now, playing stakeout in his beat up old Chevy, a car that rarely saw the sun but for special occasions and tricky situations. Joe could have noticed the DeSoto, as it was the only vehicle of its kind in this little town.

Spike blinked rapidly when he saw someone coming out of the body shop. He sat up. It was Larry, ironically, and he looked to be in quite a state. The older man was running across snow piles toward his truck, parked just down the street.

Spike watched the man jump in and drive off like a bat out of hell. Curiosity peaked. He looked towards the shop again and saw a customer walk in. Joe was still inside, stuck managing things.

Someone had to, Spike supposed. It wasn't like the boss to just up and leave like that, though, especially Larry, a laborer down to his marrow.

Eventually, Spike shrugged and leaned back in his seat, ignoring a stomach grumble. Very shortly, he decided, he would go scrounge up something resembling food at an eatery nearby. Joe couldn't leave the garage while Larry was gone, and he wouldn't; the man was too greedy.

He wondered yet again where the father had run off to. There had to be something worth seeing to leave in such a rush. Perhaps he'd forgotten an appointment, or a friend was stranded on the highway without four wheel drive. Larry's truck did have a trailer hitch.

Spike stubbed out his latest cigarette and lit another. One last fag, then he'd go in search of food, just something to keep his head clear. Once school was out, he could talk to Jack again and ask after Buffy.





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